


Tiger Balm

by Confuzledsheep



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Blood and Injury, Feather is a were-tiger, Feather thought they were married the whole time, Idiots in Love, Injury, Intercrural Sex, Living Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Paranormal! AU, Randall's a furry now guys, Sex, Sparring, Sugar Daddy, Tiger Dick, Weird Dick, Were-Creatures, kinda???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 03:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14992067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Confuzledsheep/pseuds/Confuzledsheep
Summary: He had no idea what to do with this tiger. It was a fucking tiger.In his house.Randall takes in a Were-tiger and getsway morethan he bargained for.(Takes place in the Paranormal AU universe, unrelated to the main fic)





	Tiger Balm

**Author's Note:**

> YOU ASK AND I D E L I V E R BABY
> 
> THIS ALL STARTED BECAUSE OF A TWITTER THREAD ([It's this one](https://twitter.com/ConfuzzledSheep/status/1009221421258555393))

It was dark, and stormy, and frankly, pretty shitty out.

 

Randall should have been used to this. He lived in the northwest, its _supposed_ to be cold, it's _supposed_ to rain a TON. He was a _fool_ to think he would be able to get away with bringing in the laundry in the middle of a freak rainstorm, and he was also a _fool_ for bringing in the massive, passed out… cougar? Large cat? Randall didn't know or really care. He just _saw_ the thing, curled up under his laundry line, shivering and messed up and wet, and he _had_ to bring it in with him.

 

That's how he ended up with a 150 pound _Tiger_ in his living room.

 

A fucking _tiger_.

 

A strangely _blonde,_ tiger.

 

It was… large ish. The size of a mountain lion, which was frankly pretty big. And also a very bad idea.

 

The tiger seemed to be breathing, its chest heaving in soft motions.

 

Randall was sitting on the couch, legs crossed, one tapping the hardwood floor as he debated his options. He had already taken a shower, his hair wrapped up in a towel, loose clothes absorbing the excess water.

 

He had _no idea_ what to do with this tiger. It was a _fucking_ **_tiger._ **

 

 _In his_ **_house._ **

 

Should he call animal control??? Oh, maybe he shouldn't… he could get _arrested_ … He chewed his lip. It was hard to tell the thing in front of him was even a _tiger_ …

 

The stripes were so light on it, just a slight change in hue. The blonde hair with accents of a more ginger hue. It was pretty cute, frankly.

 

He traced one of the stripes with his toe, trying to calm himself down. The tiger make a little ‘chuff’ sound.

 

“Good to know you're actually _alive._ ” Randall huffed. It was 11 at night, and he had temporarily adopted a _huge ass t i g e r._

 

He decided to sleep.

 

He went through his typical routine, comb hair, braid it back, wash face, brush teeth, meditate, sleep. He made sure to cover the tiger with an old blanket before he snuck back to his room.

 

***

 

He woke up feeling… warm.

 

_Too warm._

 

He was as _single as it got._

 

He lived _alone._ In a _cabin._ In the _mountains._

 

His eyes snapped open.

 

He was looking at a _tiger._

 

 **_The_ ** _tiger._

 

The tiger seemed… _content_ at least.

 

It seemed to be snoring, a massive arm draped over Randall's waist.

 

_Oh my god. It this what regrettable one-night stands feel like the morning after?_

 

Randall tried to shift, his alarm was _seconds_ from going off. 30 seconds to be exact.

 

He tried to weasel his arm out, managing to be successful, to some extent. He reached out over the sleeping tiger, fingertips _just over the power button_ …

 

Then the alarm went off.

 

The tiger woke up.

 

Randall lunged forward, hand slamming down the power and accidentally pushing the alarm off of the nightstand.

 

He looked down at the tiger.

 

Only to find that the tiger was _gone_.

 

And that there was a starry eyed _twink_ in its place.

 

A twink that had _ears._ And a _tail._

 

“Did you… rescue me?” The man asked, _way too excitedly._ His ears _twitched._ They fucking _twitched._

 

 _Fuck that was_ **_way too cute._ **

 

“Yes. I did. Now get out of my bed.” Randall grumbled, shoving away his gay thoughts.

 

He got out of bed, huffing towards the kitchen.

 

The man followed him like a lost puppy.

 

“God, what _happened_ to you?” Randall grumbled, starting some water for tea. He also started up his rice cooker, just pressing the ‘start’ button, having the forethought to put the rice and water in the evening before. His attention then turned to questioning the man’s scrappy appearance.

 

“Hmm.. Maybe a fight? I'm not sure. I think I may have gotten shot…”

 

“ _What”_

 

“It's really all a blur.”

 

Randall took a closer look at the man. His white tank-top was torn to shreds, bloodstains and dirt dying the thing a shade of tan. He had on torn up basketball shorts, just as messy as the shirt, along with missing shoes and socks. He did seem to have some sort of knee-pad on his right leg, and his hands were wrapped in boxer’s gauze.

 

“... Eat. Then we will treat your wounds. Then you leave.”

 

“Ah, alright then. Is there a way I can maybe repay you? I don't have any money, or a house, really, but I'm pretty strong!”

 

“Are you suggesting that _I'm not strong enough?”_ Randall growled, in sync with the boiling kettle.

 

“No, no not at all!” The man chuckled. “I just…  a lot of the people who have taken care of me in the past always needed an extra set of hands so-”

 

Randall cut him off by holding out a bowl of rice.

 

The man thanked him, before seeming to _inhale_ the bowl of rice.

 

“My name is Randall, by the way. I'm assuming you want seconds?” He grumbled, already fixing him another bowl.

 

“Oh, that would be _killer!_ I'm Feather, by the way! I'm a Were-cat, if you can't already tell.” Feather said, before quickly inhaling the second bowl.

 

“What kind of name is ‘Feather’?” Randall grumbled, making himself some miso soup.

 

“No idea. That's all I really remember, really. That my name is Feather, I'm a were-cat, and I’m _really_ good at punching things.” Feather said, trying to find a place to put his empty bowl, his ears rotating and tail swishing in a _very_ cute manner.

 

If Randall was not a cat person before (which he was), he _definitely_ was one now.

 

“A _were-cat?”_ Randall asked from behind his mug of tea.

 

“Yeah! A cute lil alley cat, yanno!”

 

“... You're a _tiger_.”

 

“Nope! Just a scrappy alley cat! That's why people like to take me in! No one would take in a tiger!”

 

_But here I fucking am._

 

Randall didn't have it in him to argue at that time, just returning to his food.

“Whatever. Let me finish this and then we can get you all patched up…”

 

 _Why was he being so damn nice? He was_ **_never_ ** _like this!! What had changed?? Was this that gay brain nonsense that plagued him in highschool when he had an embarrassing crush on that Stan kid and/or his girlfriend?!_

 

Randall finished his food quickly, leading Feather to his bathroom, where he cleaned and dressed his wounds. Feather _did_ actually have a gunshot wound, but it seemed mostly healed over. Randall managed to badger him into a day or so of bed rest, and Feather very excitedly settled down in Randall's bed.

 

_What the hell am I going to do with him?_

 

***

 

He got his answer pretty quickly.

 

Feather was _really_ good with kids.

 

Like, _insanely good._

 

And Randall was _not_ good with kids.

 

It worked out _perfectly_.

 

Randall gave him the rundown of basic form and techniques, and within a few short weeks, Randall's dojo had gained a new teacher _just_ for the youth classes.

 

Randall liked his dojo, it was a short walk down some stone steps he had built up to his house, the proximity of the building very reassuring to him.

 

He also put Feather to work cleaning the place, only really the outsides, he had his students clean everything inside of the dojo.

 

That's when Feather found him. When he was training on his own.

 

Feather doubted he had _ever_ seen something so graceful. He was from dark allies and mud and sweat and blood and gunsmoke. Randall was something so… _different._

 

Feather _loved it._

 

He _loved Randall._

 

But he was young, and very, very dumb. He realized his affections quickly, following through with them as he did any of his other passions. Diving in headfirst and seeing how it all shaked out.

Hopefully he wouldn't end up with a concussion this time.

 

Watching Randall practice… no. _Perform._ That's what it should be called, was _breathtaking._

 

Feather stopped and watched, turning off the hose in his hand as Randall's legs, his _wonderful, wonderful_ legs, made such _refined, perfect movements._

 

Randall went through a set of forms, legs in slightly different positions each time, and he repeated the cycle with no faltering in his timing or form.

 

Soon, he was moving on his tiptoes, dancing across the hardwood side of the dojo with a seemingly _effortless_ grace.

 

Feather made up his mind. He was going to give this man the _world._

 

And he was going to get the snot beat out of him while he was at it.

 

***

 

“Where _were you?!”_ Randall snarled, too tired to properly yell. It was 3am, and Feather had _just_ stumbled through the door. The _back door._ He came home through the _woods._

 

“Oh, just trading blows. No big deal.” Feather chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. His gloved left hand was fumbling with something in his pocket.

 

“You have a _black eye.”_ Randall hissed, grabbing Feather by the arm and dragging him to the bathroom. “Trading blows _my ass._ ”

 

Feather took a moment to take a nice look at Randall's _awesome_ ass as the other man bent over the tub to open up his (now very large) first aid kit.

 

“Hold still.” Randall said, grabbing Feather’s face, holding him in place using his thumb and index finger.

 

Feather didn't wince as Randall applied the alcohol soaked cotton ball or any of the other salves and bandages. He was just _overwhelmed_ by a very new feeling. A new… instinct.

 

Of course, he acted upon it, taking the freedom of Randall releasing his face to lean forward, capturing Randall's lips on his own.

 

Feather _was_ part beast after all.

 

Randall kneeled there, stunned, looking at the man sitting on his (closed, obviously) toilet, who just _happened_ to be _kissing_ him.

 

Feather just _kept_ going, and somewhere along the line, Randall caved, moving his lips in a complementary motion.

 

He felt something resembling sandpaper take a swipe at his lips, and he pulled back.

 

“What the hell has _gotten into you?!”_ He managed to eek out between pants, wiping the saliva off of his lips.

 

“Dunno.” Feather panted back.

 

“... What are you fidgeting with in your pocket?” Randall asked, reaching forward.

 

Feather pulled his hand from his pocket, and opened his palm.

 

“Is that a fucking _Rolex?!”_ Randall hissed, somewhat glaring up at Feather.

 

Feather's ears flicked a bit. “Yeah… Real gold too! The dial has a real deal _diamond_ on it!” He smiled, a youthful grin revealing a slightly chipped tooth and a split lip.

 

“I- you- you got a black eye for _this?!”_ Randall growled, snatching the watch out of Feather's hands. “Why?!”

 

“I wanted to give something to ya. I hate bein’ in ya debt. Thought this may clear it up.”

 

“God you're- forget it. Go to bed.” Randall grumbled, actually giving Feather a real glare this time, before he slunk back to his own room.

 

Feather looked around the bathroom, the bright lights reminded him of the ones in the ring.

 

_Was Randall not happy? Was it not enough?_

 

It dawned on him. His method of flirting was _definitely_ not a common human one, but the message and intent were similar.

 

_I need to get him something better!_

 

***

 

“Feather, I am going to kill you.”

 

“Do you not like the color? Or is it because I got all beat up again?” _That Elmott guy is a tough one, for sure… burned my back pretty bad… oh well! Got something nice for Ran!!_

 

“Yes, I don't like the- OF COURSE IT’S BECAUSE YOU GOT BEAT UP! DO YOU _KNOW_ HOW MUCH MONEY MEDICAL SUPPLIES COST?!” _Do YOU KNOW HOW MUCH STRESS THIS IS CAUSING ME?!_

 

 _“_ Oh.. Sorry…” Feather said, looking at his feet, ears drooping, tail clinging close to his leg.

 

“Yeah, you _better be sorry!”_ Randall barked, hanging up the new designer suit in the hall closet where he put all of Feather’s little ‘gifts’. “Come on, let's get you patched up… Why are you moping, anyway?” Randall said as he turned. His hair was in a perfect braided bun, like it was every night. Feather had no idea how he made it so perfect every time.

 

“Why don’t you like any of the gifts?”

 

“Because those things aren't too my taste.” _You keep getting beat up to get them all._

 

“... Then what is your taste?” Feather asked, voice a bit shaky.

 

“I like things that aren't physical, more of-”

 

“Fight me.”

 

“ _What?!”_

 

“ _Fight me!”_

 

_“Why?!”_

 

 _“_ You'll only love me if I win, yeah?!”

 

“ _SINCE WHEN WAS_ **_LOVE_ ** _PART OF THIS?!”_

 

“Since the beginning?? Could you not?? Tell??”

 

Randall looked at the closet before looking back at Feather in confusion.

 

Then it dawned on him.

 

“Those were _courting gifts?!”_

 

Feather nodded. He looked up, hair dripping with rain, his signature tank top singed and edged with black, clinging to his skin. His face was a bit burnt, his left arm and shoulder taking the brunt of it. His shorts had burned holes in them, the right leg now forming a sharp angle, having been seared off and partially melted.

 

Randall snapped out of it, looking Feather in the eyes.

 

“Fine then. You're on.”

 

***

 

Feather remembered back to the first time he saw Randall practice, no, perform.

 

The elegant movements, they way he seemed to sail through the air… a strange dance he later learned was called _Ballet._

 

It transferred _very well_ into martial arts.

 

If every loss Feather had to receive for the rest of his life was at the hands of Randall, he would take it. With open arms.

 

The way he moved, covered in sweat, in those _very tight and very small shorts_ , left _little_ to the imagination.

 

Feather marveled in the way his opponent's thighs and calves flexed and shifted under smooth, pale skin. He had _plenty_ of time to do so, the match having been going for perhaps an _hour_ at this point.

 

He might have been marveling a bit _too much_ , but Feather was _really_ good at blocking blows, each kick somewhat underwhelming him.

 

“My my… So defensive… how could you even manage to scrounge up a _penny_ for me when you're fighting like that?” Randall taunted, foot lashing forward, only to be caught by Feather’s hands.

 

Feather gripped Randall's ankle, yanking him to the ground, pinning him down and focusing his weight onto Randall's legs to keep him down.

 

He was about to proclaim his joyous victory when he saw Randall _writhing_ in pain. He was trying to hide it, not too much success.

 

“Get… off.. My… ankle…” he managed to eek out through grit teeth. Feather obeyed, not only getting off the man, but scooping him up into his arms, and carrying him back to the house.

 

Randall didn't complain, which was unusual on its own. But it started getting much stranger when feather set him down on the couch, and Randall suddenly began to order him around.

 

“Grab me an ice pack!”

 

“Tea! Now!”

 

“My brace is in the second drawer!”

 

And other such orders kept flying out of his mouth. Feather wasn't mad or anything, he could take orders no problem. It just that… Randall's tone has shifted. He was less of a boss and more of a… Spoiled princess? Maybe that was the right description.

 

That metaphor was really sealed when Randall demanded his company after bossing him around the whole evening.

 

“Anything else you need? I can get out of your hair for a while…”

 

“No. Stay. Put in a movie.”

 

“Which one?”

 

“Crouching tiger hidden dragon.”

 

“Got it.” Feather said, fumbling through Randall's _impressive_ kung-fu movie collection.

 

“Get back here. Sit with me.”

 

“Can I ask why?” Feather asked, sitting at the end of the couch by Randall’s feet.

 

“You're my boyfriend now, I guess.”

 

“... Hah?”

 

“Boyfriend. Don't make me say it again. You won, fair and square.”

 

“No I didn't! I screwed up your ankle!”

 

“It was already screwed up! You didn't know! Now shut up and sit in that armchair you're too far away.” Randall ordered.

 

Feather obliged.

 

***

 

It had been something around 8 months after Feather fucked up Randall's leg. Unfortunately for Randall, the nighttime escapades of Feather didn't really stop, only lessened, with even _more_ valuable things on the line.

 

Feather brought him cufflinks, wallet chains, necklaces, and even one time a set of _earrings_ , even though Randall hadn't worn such a thing in _ages._

 

He brought back gold, diamonds, weapons, designer clothes, and occasionally, briefcases full of $100 bills.

 

Feather was now a pretty crucial part of his life, for better or worse.

 

Randall had to get used to the whole tiger-shifting thing, he was really just a big cat, so there was no issue. Randall started hoarding boxes and other things for when the full moon rolled around. (“Our shifts don’t depend on the moon! It's just a tradition!” Feather had huffed, when Randall asked him about it.)

 

They had gotten pretty good at living together. They sparred daily, and verbally fought just as frequently, but they managed to actually _get along_ the rest of the time.

 

But this was a _whole new beast._

 

Randall was horny. Not really anything too new there. People had desires, he was no exception. But he now had a new resource previously unavailable to him. A boyfriend. A boyfriend that was _dumb as shit,_ but still a boyfriend.

 

Randall had always managed to get away with just jacking off multiple times in one day to get over these things in the past, but that wasn't really an option here.

 

He was going to have to ask Feather to has sex with him.

 

Something that he did over dinner.

 

He got a _very excited_ ‘ _HELL YEAH!!’_ In response.

 

They cleaned up after their dinner, Feather nearly tripping over his own tail multiple times, his ears perked up with anticipation.

 

Randall would have scolded him for being so embarrassing, but he was much too focused on _what the hell he was going to do._

 

Feather obviously had _never_ been in a relationship before, and neither had Randall. Randall was familiar with sex, mostly through one-night stands back in college and the occasional heavy petting in highschool, but He and Feather hardly made it past _makeouts._

 

Sure, Feather had groped his ass (more than) a few times and Randall had palmed the other man’s crotch on a few occasions, but nothing further than that.

 

Feather was seconds away from _bouncing off the walls_ as he watched Randall pin all of his hair up.

 

“WAIT!!” Feather squawked as Randall went to take his shirt off.

 

“I-I want to do that!” He added, the hair on his tail laying back down.

 

Randall chuckled, releasing his hands from his shirt to join Feather on the bed. The tiger-man was sitting on his calves, hands kneading into his thighs as he watched Randall. His pupils had become very much like slits, his ears alert and pointed up, flicking downward every once and a while. His tail swung back and forth, like he was ready to pounce upon something, but was holding back.

 

Randall sighed and opened his arms, Feather actually _pouncing_ on him, pushing him down onto the blankets, locking his lips into a surprisingly tender kiss.

 

Randall chuckled as they pulled apart. “You got soft.”

 

“Maybe I just wanted to warm up.” Feather retorted, making a show of licking over his _intimidating_ canines. He always seemed to have had a bit of snaggletooth, but Randall had hardly seen his teeth this.. Large.

 

Randall just huffed a bit, lips curling into a smirk as he watched Feather’s freckled face grow red as he ran his hands up his partner’s stomach, taking his stupid white tank top off in the process.

 

Randall felt Feather’s tail gently tapping against his leg as it swayed from side to side. Feather licked his lips, before diving in for another kiss, this time with much more (very rough) tongue.

 

Randall smiled into the kiss as well. Feather was so _focused_ , a mood he had rarely seen from him. He was also strangely reminiscent of a kitten trying to figure out something. Like how they look so confused when the laser pointer is turned off. Randall might have laughed at one point, but found himself too distracted with the task of making sure _Feather didn't physically_ **_rip_ ** _his clothing off of his body._

 

Randall shoved him off, making a bit of a show to try and excuse Feather’s uninvolvement in the whole undressing part of sex.

 

“Come on, take it off.” Randall puffed, motioning to Feather’s shorts.

 

Feather quickly rid himself of his shorts and boxers, and Randall had to rethink his _whole damn life._

 

Feather had a _tiger dick._

 

A _full blown. Barbs and all._ **_Tiger dick._ **

 

“That is going _nowhere near my ass.”_ Randall said, looking at the current problem in his originally straightforward plan.

 

“Huh? My dick? I thought-”

 

“Don’t care it's got _spines. Don’t want that by my asshole. Nope. Not today. I would rather use_ **_Tiger Balm_ ** _as_ **_lube._ ** ” Randall said, making himself as clear as possible. “ **No. Put that down.”** He commanded, as Feather reached for the small container of Tiger Balm on one of the bedside tables.

 

“Well… Then what _should I do?”_ Feather asked, ears drooping in sadness.

 

“You could finger me… maybe just jerk me off…”

 

“Ah ok…” Feather said, still kinda disappointed he couldn't do more.

 

The drop in Feather’s mood had an effect on Randall as well, which was weird. That never really happened to him with previous partners. He grabbed the lube from a bedside drawer and shoved it into Feather’s hand before rolling onto his stomach, keeping his head against a pillow, lifting his hips and thighs up so he was leaning forward on his knees.

 

_Fuck this is embarrassing… Maybe this will look cat-like enough that Feather will snap back too it…_

 

Randall’s suspicions were confirmed when he noticed how much Feather’s pupils had expanded, only a thin ring of gold remained around the dark circles of his eyes. He moved quietly, uncapping the lube and putting some on his fingers.

 

In true Feather fashion, he shoved a finger in straight away. Randall was very thankful for the fact that he had predicted this outcome and had relaxed as much as he could, so the intrusion wasn't too bad. It just kind of felt like… _something._ Not really good or bad.

 

“You can add more…” Randall whined.

 

“Really?” Feather asked. Randall almost jumped, he had underestimated how _close_ Feather was too him.

 

Feather added a second finger, more gradually, this time. He was actually properly moving them, trying to find specific spots and angles that Randall liked. Two fingers was much more pleasant, but he could take more.

 

“Another…” Randall trailed off softly. Feather kissed his cheek in response. He was bent over Randall, one hand holding him steady, the other... well. Fingering his boyfriend.

 

Obediently, Feather added _another_. He licked the back of Randall's neck, the gesture drawing forward a soft noise from the other.

 

Feather just kept _missing_ that perfect spot, and he adjusted his position, scissoring his fingers a bit before pulling them out pretty far, only to shove them right back in.

 

The snap of Randall's hips and the whimper he made assured Feather that he was on the right track.

 

Randall's breathing was becoming heavier, breaths coming out in pants as Feather littered his neck and back with kisses, licks, and bites.

 

After a while, Randall started rocking back into  Feather’s fingers, somehow needing even more. Feather’s tail twitched and his ears lowered a bit. How was three fingers not enough?? Was he being too gentle??

 

“Mm.. More…” Randall grumbled, very much displeased with the gradual loss of any real _stretch._

 

 _Should I?? Tell him????_ Feather internally debated as he added more lube to his fingers, just to be safe. He inserted his pinky as well, hoping that it may _just be enough_...

 

“No.. More than _that_ that's _nothing_!” Randall grumbled.

 

Who was Feather to deny him?

 

Feather was going to _implode_ as he watched his _whole fucking fist_ be seemingly _swallowed_ by Randall's ass. How was that _even possible??? How could someone be that stretchy?!_

 

His disbelief was shoved off to the side as he focused on the more important task at hand. Pleasing Randall. The other man’s dick twitched and he let out a wonderful groan as Feather worked his _whole damn fist in_.

 

_Guess I'm doing something good…_

 

Feather was also getting _very_ hot and bothered by all of this, now that he had Randall properly _moaning_ under him.

 

He started slow. Well, _he_ didn't really start anything, Randall just started rocking his hips back and Feather started moving to get him to _stop._ He earned himself a soft whimper and the image of Randall trying to seductively wiggle his hips with _fist up his ass_ by doing so.

 

Feather was going to die here.

 

He leaned forward again, trying to distract himself from the _pornographic_ image before him.

 

He kept showering Randall with affection, probably even more now than he was before.

 

“You’re tongue is so… rough..” Randall groaned through heavy breaths. His face had been buried in the pillows since they started, but he had gradually turned to have his face away from Feather’s own, something Feather tried to remedy by being _ludicrously_ affectionate.

 

That just seemed to motivate Randall turn even further away from him.

 

“Randalllllll!” Feather whined, stopping the movement of his fist for the time being.

 

“What! Why did you stop?!” He hissed, trying to rock his hips back.

 

“I want you to look towards me!”

 

“Why?!”

 

“So we can do that weird face-battle lip thing!”

 

“You mean _kissing?!”_

 

“Yeah!! I wanna ‘kiss’ you!” Feather whimpered, in a childish way, not a sexual one.

 

Randall was _very_ unhappy with the sudden loss of movement in his ass. “Fine. If you _don't start moving again I'm going to break every one of your damn fingers.”_ He growled, barely holding up his torso enough for his head to move, his right cheek now pressed against the slightly chewed up pillow.

 

Feather smiled at him, a toothy grin still showing off his impressive teeth, before he moved down to kiss Randall again.

 

Randall only started to really get into it after Feather’s fist started moving again, the motions becoming bolder and slightly more dramatic.

 

After a while Feather managed to have Randall whining under him again, this time in _pleasure_ and not in frustration.

 

However, that sweet-spot he had brushed upon earlier still eluded him.

 

He gulped back some spit that had collected in his mouth. He had tried to avoid putting in anything past the top part of his wrist, but Randall was _begging_ for more… he had added more lube not too long ago…

 

“Come on! Just- move! Go _deeper_ damn it!” Randall huffed out, scowling at the nervous look on Feather’s face. “I'll be fine!”

 

 _Are you sure??? You haven't looked back here_ **_at all_ ** _and seem to not realize that_ **_MY WHOLE FIST IS UP YOUR ASS GOD YOU ARE GOING TO KI L L ME WHEN WE'RE THROUGH!!!!!!_ **

 

Feather just nodded apprehensively and pushed in a little deeper, Randall sighing in relief. He _loved_ being filled like this… the stretch was _perfect_ at this point, 3 or 4 fingers often being _just enough_ to fill him… _that_ must be why Feather was nervous. Most guys just want the bare minimum and then a dick, but Randall was a _bit_ of a size queen… Yeah, that _must_ have been the issue. Three fingers up your butt was a pretty impressive thing, all things considered.

 

Feather carefully pushed in further, trying not to go too far. He slowly started to unfurl his fingers, scissoring them a little bit in search of just the right-

 

“ _Fuck-_ Feather!-”

 

Spot.

 

He hit the damn _jackpot_ , after probably an _hour and a half_ of stretching and pausing and kissing and licking at whatnot.

 

Feather curled his fingers back up again, shoving in _just a bit more_ , the knuckle of his index finger hovering _right above it_.

 

“ _Don’t stop!_ Do it again!!” Randall whimpered, turning his face out of the pillow to look up at Feather, his cheeks flushed red, his lips chapped and a bit chewed up, his eyes glistening a bit.

 

“You're _crying-”_

 

“ **Keep. Going.** ”

 

Feather obeyed, taking in a deep breath. The hand that was holding him up was lifted, and he sat back on his calves, hand still _very much_ inside his partner.

 

His tail was flicking, and he was trying to keep it from slamming against the bed like an extremely excited dog’s.

 

His free hand wrapped around Randall’s ignored cock, which had been dripping little drops of precum onto the sheets for the whole ordeal. Feather felt Randall tighten up at his action, and he didn't quite know _how_ to describe the feeling.

 

All he knew is that it went _straight_ to his dick.

 

He slowly started moving his fist again, letting his knuckle brush that spot that made Randall tremble. The combined feeling of Feather’s hands on his dick and in his ass almost making his legs give out from under him.

 

“Too- much…” Randall squeaked out.

 

“ _Good_ too much or-”

 

“Hand off… dick.. Too much…” Randall panted.

 

Feather nodded, pulling his hand off of the other’s dick. (Which was, in his opinion, _very damn cute._ If dicks even _could_ be cute… would Randall yell at him for thinking about it that way?)

 

He moved his hand to his own thigh for a bit as he shifted and leaned forward, his body arching over Randall's again. Something in the back of his mind was telling him that he _needed_ to do that, although he didn't really know what. His bet was on the Cat side of his brain.

 

Randall’s hips snapped back. “Keep moving!” He growled through his teeth.

 

Feather nodded again, his fist starting to move. He placed his free hand on one of Randall’s _very nice_ asscheeks, gently kneading and pressing at the muscle.

 

Randall keened, almost biting into the sheets again as Feather worked his fingers into him. Feather _never_ overstimulated his prostate, trying to draw everything out, unintentional or not. _He probably thinks that it hurts to some extent and he's avoiding because he doesn't want to hurt me… Shit that's kinda sweet…_

 

In reality, Feather was just a _dumbass._ Plain and simple. But he _knew_ that whatever he was doing _had_ to be good, as there was no other possible explanation for how the hell Randall was moving and moaning and groaning in such a _hot_ way.

 

He decided to press down his knuckles on the lower side of Randall’s hole, the soft walls pressing down as he gently dragged his knuckles past-

 

“ _Almost-”_ Randall moaned, not even needing to get the rest of the sentence out.

 

Feather shoved his hand back in, his mouth _millimetres_ away from the back of Randall's neck, breath pushing around the stray hairs.

 

He stayed there a little bit, putting pressure _just above the spot_ , before _slowly_ going down.

 

“ _No! Shit!_ Keep pace dumbass!” Randall groaned, hips jumping up. He was tense, coiled up. He had been _aching_ for release for a while now, Feather unintentionally edging him the _whole time._

 

Feather nodded, swallowing nervously. He licked up some of the salty sweat from the back of Randall's neck, the action somehow working to calm his nerves.

 

He pressed back in, stopping _right over_ the spot his boyfriend liked so much, before pressing down, _digging_ his knuckles into it as firmly as he could.

 

“ _Feather!”_ Randall groaned, hole tightening up, legs almost giving, voice cracking a bit. His hands were ripping at the sheets as he came over his chest and the bed.

 

Feather’s teeth bit down at the back of Randall's neck the moment he started to seize up, groaning into the skin, licking and kissing and chewing it up a bit.

 

His mouth stayed latched on for a while, Randall riding out his orgasm. He was making his way out of the afterglow when he chided Feather to get his mouth off.

 

“Pull out too, it just- hah- too much now” Randall said, turning over onto his back. _God his fingers must be freaking huge!_

 

“Uh. Well. About that…” Feather said, his ears drooping in shame.

 

“Why do you look so-” Randall said, before he looked down between his legs.

 

 _That was his_ **_fist._ ** _His fucking_ **_fist._ ** _Up_ **_his ass._ **

 

“I- I'm sorry! That was wrong of me too-”

 

“Feather. Shut up.”

 

Feather did, chewing his lip.

 

“Don't do that it will split again…” Randall chided him, deciding the best course of action.

 

“Feather.”

 

“Yeah Ran?”

 

“You're going _carefully_ pull your… _fist_ out, then you’re going to carry me to the bathroom. After that, go to the kitchen to wash your hands.” Randall carefully instructed. He couldn't have Feather panic on him now.

 

Feather nodded. He scooted a bit forward, _carefully_ pulling his fist out. Luckily the lube hadn't dried yet, so it was much easier than expected. He then quickly picked up Randall bridal style and power-walked to the bathroom, setting the man on the toilet before dashing out and closing the door.

 

Feather washed his hands in the kitchen sink, splashing water on his face once he had scrubbed his right hand clean four times over.

 

_Damn. The calluses are cracking again… Not my top priority now. Take care of Randall first. Dumbass._

 

Feather went to the fridge, grabbing one of those weird smoothie things Randall liked so much, and a Muscle Milk for himself.

 

He walked down the hall back to the bathroom, sitting down on the hardwood floor by the door.

 

“I brought you a smoothie.” He said to the dark door.

 

“Thank you.” He heard Randall say in a muffled voice.

 

The hall was cold, and instinct forced Feather to shift a bit more, his ears drooping in shame, tail wrapped around his legs, which he hugged to his chest. Fur started to sprout up along his back and arms, keeping him warm.

 

He drank his protein shake, the iron in the drink only vaguely mimicking the meat he frequently craved, but in Randall's vegan/vegetarian household, this was all he could get.

 

He never actually asked about meat.

 

After what felt like a _long, long_ while, Randall stepped out of the Bathroom, body glistening with water from a shower, towel wrapped around his waist.

 

“Were you out here the _whole time?”_ He asked in disbelief.

 

Feather nodded.

 

“You're such a handful, come on. Help me change the blankets.” Randall said, grabbing the smoothie drink and offering a hand to Feather.

 

He had never really seen Feather act this way before. He stayed curled into himself, fur bristling a bit before he raised his head a bit to look at Randall.

 

“Come on. I'm not mad. We can talk this out.”

 

Feather still wouldn't move.

 

_What the hell? Do I have to force him up??_

 

Randall drew his hand back, trading off the smoothie bottle between his hands. He crouched down, and extended his right hand, gently reaching to pet Feather’s ears.

 

Right as Randall touched his ears, Feather scrambled back, claws threatening to scratch up the hardwood.

 

“Hey, _hey!_ I'm not trying to hurt you!” Randall said, trying to get the tiger-man to calm down.

 

Feather was still quiet, the black of his eyes almost completely erased by gold, save for fearful slivers.

 

_Why won't he trust me?_

 

“ _Feather._ Please come with me. I'm not going to hurt you. We're just going to go to bed, and we will take care of this in the morning.” Randall said, taking a cautious step forward. Feather didn't flinch, which was good.

 

“You're not going to kick me out?” Feather whispered softly, once Randall hand managed to get much closer to him.

 

“Why would I do that?! You're my _boyfriend_ now. Did you totally forget that?”

 

“ _No,_ but that means-”

 

“That means _I love you dumbass!”_ Randall hissed. He had crouched down again, and hand grabbed onto the tops of Feather's drawn in knees. He looked right into Feather’s gold eyes, trying to ensure that Feather was actually listening.

 

“Well- I-”

 

“ _What?_ Do you not love me back?”

 

“I do! I do! I just-”

 

“I forgive you.”

 

“...What?”

 

“Do you not know what that means? Has _no one_ in your life ever forgiven you?!” Randall asked, his brow creasing in a mix on concern and frustration.

 

“No. No one has. I neva’ had anyone who _would have,_ or _could've_ forgiven me until you.”

 

Randall's heart _sank._

 

It made more sense now. The tiger he took care of almost a _year_ ago never left of disappeared for more than a night because he had _nowhere else to go._

 

All the pieces were there, Randall just never put them together.

 

Randall's arms wrapped around Feather. He stopped torturing his ankle with his weird squat and sank to his knees.

 

“Looks like I need to pick up a lot of slack, if I'm the first one to _forgive_ you.” Randall said, smiling into Feather’s shoulder.

 

He felt Feather’s ear twitch.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I need to return the favor of what you did to me earlier.”

 

“You're going to punish me by shoving your hand up my ass?” Feather questioned. He wasn't confused so much as he was resigned to his fate.

 

“ _No!!!!_ I'm going to make you feel good!” Randall said, squeezing Feather tighter. “Why would I punish you for making me feel good?!”

 

“That felt _good?!”_

 

 _“Yeah!!!_ I _enjoy_ being stretched out! I wasn't expecting you to have such small hands and needing to use your whole _fist_ , which is why I was surprised-”

 

“My hand’s not very small! See!” Feather said, holding his against Randall's own, palms touching. Feather’s fingers were actually a centimetre or two smaller than Randall's own, although he _did_ have notoriously long hands.

 

“Anyway, just. Come back to bed. Please?” Randall asked. He didn't want to sit in the cold hall much longer.

 

Feather’s ears twitched nervously before he nodded and stood up, still _very naked_ , and shuffled behind Randall back to the room.

 

“Sit.” Randall commanded, patting the place on the bed next to him. He had undone the towel on his waist, letting it sit on top of the covers.

 

Feather obeyed, his tail still between his legs, his hands fidgeting with the fur on the very end of it.

 

Randall thought about how _damn cute_ Feather was when he got nervous during movies. He would always chew on the end of his tail like the tigers in those viral internet videos. He would nap in sunlit areas of the house, just passing out on the floor. He was lactose intolerant, although only slightly so. He would thoroughly lick every utensil he used, the pieces of silverware ending up so clean Randall didn't even bother putting them in the washing machine.

 

Not to mention all the times Feather tried to ‘clean’ Randall with his damn sandpaper tongue.

 

Randall snapped his attention back to the present, cupping the sides of Feather’s face and bringing him in for a kiss.

 

Feather was reluctant to return the kiss, seemingly under the impression that his duty here was to just shut up and let Randall _use_ him. Which was _absolutely not what Randall was trying to do._

 

They pulled away after a bit, Randall mentally patting himself on the back as he looked at Feather’s cute, flushed face.

 

“What do you want me to do?” Randall purred, placing a hand between Feather’s legs, leaning forward a bit in a seductive manner.

 

“I- I don't know…”

 

“Is there _anything_ you fantasize about?”

 

“... Everything?”

 

“Everything about _me?”_

 

“...Yeah…”

 

“Anything in… _particular?”_

 

“Well, _fucking_ you but that's not really an option..”

 

“Right _now_ it isn't. Maybe later it may.” Randall said, leaning a bit forward, kissing Feather’s collarbone.

 

“I dunno… I like your thighs…”

 

“I can work with that. Could you spread your legs please?” Randall asked softly, wedging his hand between Feather’s surprisingly toned thighs.

 

Feather blushed harder, ears lowered and flicked back in a very… Nervous way? Maybe he's just shy. But he obeyed, opening his legs and revealing a semi-hard and still _very spiky_ dick.

 

Randall grabbed some lube, a _very large amount,_ and started to smear it down Feather’s cock. His hips stuttered forward, unfamiliar with the feeling on another’s hand on him.

 

“Only go down… If you go up it will scrape you…” Feather whimpered out, clutching onto Randall’s chest in a _very_ endearing way.

 

“Would it feel good if I went up?” Randall asked, still only stroking downwards.

 

“ _Yeah-_ but I don’t want ya’ hand ta’-”

 

Randall tightened his grip slightly, still only _barely_ grasping Feather’s dick, and _gently_ stroked upwards. The small ridges were definitely sharp, and would be absolutely horrible when paired with the soft flesh of say… an _asshole_ , but it wasn’t too bad against his hand, feeling like the slightly sharp bristles of a plastic broom.

 

Feather whimpered and moaned into Randall’s shoulder, very quickly overcome with all the _new_  stimulation. Randall took his time to explore, rubbing his thumb over the tip, Gently pressing his fingers into the base, running his hands through the fluffy hair that trailed up into his stomach…

 

Randall _grinned._

 

He just had an _excellent_ idea.

 

“Hey Feather?” He cooed.

 

“MmmHMmhmmh?” Feather replied, head pressing into Randall’s shoulder.

 

“I think I came up with a solution to our… _fucking_ problem.”

 

Feather pulled his head out of the crux of his boyfriend’s neck, blinking up at him. “What do you mean?”

 

“You like my thighs, right?”

 

“...Yeah?”

 

“What if you fucked the inside of my thighs?”

 

“... _How?!”_

 

“I keep my thighs together, but not too tight, and you thrust into them.”

 

Feather just looked even more confused.

 

Randall sighed. “I’ll just. Show you.”

 

He pulled away from Feather, the slightly shorter man letting out a small cry of protest as he let go of his dick. Randall was also pretty hard as well, but he wasn’t focusing on that. He laid down on his side, opening up his on legs and grabbing the lube, smearing a good amount on the inside of both thighs. He motioned for Feather to scoot so that he was positioned right behind Randall’s thighs. Randall sat up a bit, softly letting his legs come together. He guided Feather towards his thighs, the maneuvering taking a fair bit of time. Luckily the lube hadn’t gotten tacky by the time Feather _finally_  thrusted in between his thighs.

 

It felt… _strange._ But not bad, not at all.

 

Feather was _loving_ this. Randall’s legs were just as good, no _better_  than he possibly could have EVER imagined.

 

After a while, his hips were moving on his own, grinding against Randall every few thrusts. The sound of Feather’s hips slapping against his thighs was _obscene_ and his hands were gripping onto Randall’s hips and thighs so hard he was bound to leave bruises, but it felt _good._

 

Feather started to lean over him again, panting into his ear, sloppily kissing every inch of skin he could get his lips around. The mattress was rocking in the bedframe, and the wood sounded like it was close to _cracking,_ but they didn’t much care.

 

Randall started whimpering as Feather’s thrusts started to shift, making some of his spines brush against Randall’s cock. It didn’t hurt, if anything it was _thrilling._

 

Not that Randall would _ever_ say that out loud.

 

Feather was panting and moaning and groaning and somewhere along the line he started _purring,_ the vibrations almost spooking Randall when he first felt them coming off of his boyfriend’s chest.

 

Randall wrapped his arms around Feather the best he could in their current position, trying to hold him as close as possible. Feather was _trembling,_ mumbling about how close he was.

 

“Go as.. Hard as you… want…” Randall panted, before groaning again, Feather’s hand wrapping around his dick. “You don’t have too-”

 

“I want to.”

 

Randall moaned as he came across his chest for the second time that night. Feather’s hips stuttered, before he came, sinking his teeth into Randall’s shoulder.

 

They lay there for a while, Randall teasingly shoving Feather off of him.

 

“This is gonna take a while to clean…”

 

***

 

It had been a few years since Feather had been taken in by Randall. They kept dating, even though they ran into fights that threatened to tear them apart multiple times.

 

Most of the fights involved the place that Feather was currently at. The underground betting ring. It was a strange little place, where benefactors could bring in valuable objects and the fighters would duke it out to claim that prize. Sometimes for themselves, sometimes for others. The real reason Feather frequented this place though, was because there were _very_ few humans too be seen.

 

Feather always fought for himself. That’s how he managed to bring all those things home for Randall.

 

The night was slow, all things he knew Randall wouldn’t want. The kid next to him on the bench, Ayer, had told him that a pretty wealthy dude had showed up to the ring that day, and had put up something Feather might want in the prize block.

 

“Randall’s gonna kick my ass if I come home late, you know this.” Feather said, looking at the scrawny kid.

 

“That prize will 100% make up for it. Trust me.”

 

“If ya say so, Shaman.” Feather shrugged, using Ayer’s ring-name. The kid was an Elemental magic user from a long line of _real deal_  shamans, Feather had _no idea_ why a kid that gifted would be frequenting a place like this. He had every reason to trust the kid’s word though.

 

So he waited. And waited.

 

Much past his “curfew”.

 

Then the prize came onto the announcer’s table, the projectors broadcasting an enlarged image onto the makeshift screens along the walls.

 

Feather _needed_ to win that.

 

It was a beautiful silver ring, simple in design, a boring band, really. What got his heart racing was the arrangement of purple and pink stones, all wrapping in a slight figure-8 pattern, forming a _perfect_ ombre of colors.

 

He _had_  to get that for Randall.

 

Lowain, the MC, called up any and all fighters to step towards the ring. Surprisingly, there was no sudden surge of fighters to get to the ring, trying to be the first two in.

 

Feather _launched_ himself into the fighting ring anyway.

 

No other opponent stepped forward, Feather tapping his foot and shifting his weight around. Lowain reached into the ring, leaning over the elastic guard ropes.

 

“So~ Why ya wanna fight for this thing, bro? You got someone Special?~” Lowain asked, holding out the mic for Feather to speak. Lowain liked putting on a bit of a show when there was luls in fighter interest.

 

“Yeah. I got someone on the other side of the mountain who would look _really_ nice with that on.” Feather said, still anxiously bouncing on the balls of his feet. His tail was swaying, ears perked forwards.

 

The crowd grumbled a bit, not really being the romantic types.  

 

Then a section started getting a bit louder, as a challenger stepped forward. A Minotaur nicknamed ‘Gandhi’.

 

The crowd started to pick up. Gandhi _rarely_ stepped up to fight.

 

The man was a _beast,_ probably three times the size of Feather, but he didn’t much care.

 

He just needed to win _once._

 

Lowain was announcing something into the mic, Feather couldn’t tell, he wasn’t listening. He  thought of his options, trying to predict everything he could do to win. Gandhi was a mystery, but definitely used some sort of elemental power, likely fire. He was WAY taller and obviously much stockier than Feather, but he was _all_ upper body. His arms were huge, and left _no gaps_ when he used them too block… he would need to drop the guy’s defences, or play dirty, which was not something he liked to do.

 

_Who WAS he? Randall??? Cut that analytics shit out and sock him in the jaw._

 

That’s exactly what he planned on doing.

 

The crowd was hushing, Lowain obviously close to the cue to rumble. Feather shifted his legs, weight split evenly. His tail slowly stopped moving, his ears rotated and pinned back.

 

He learned a thing or two from another Were maybe a decade back, when he was still a kid. The dude was a Were-Jag, wearing some military uniform and a set of red goggles he never took off.  

 

Feather never learned the dude’s name. Only this move.

 

The Six-Ruin Fist.

 

The move was simple in execution, the easiest trick in the Boxing Book, really.

 

The kicker was how well you could _fake it._

 

Six steps forward, shifting your weight at the very end, lunging forward for a teeth-knocking punch, only to ‘ruin’ it as the opponent blocked it. Keeping your Left hand tucked in, leaving yourself unguarded just long enough to get their other arm down-

 

Then you sucker-punch that bastard straight out of the ring, using the force of your weight on your bent leg.

 

Gandhi lurched forward, clearing the space between the two of them in a _single_ step. His huge fist landed square on Feather’s arms, which were put up to defend. That dude hit _hard._ Feather felt the hit in his stomach, and he recoiled a bit, compensating for the blow. His feet stayed perfectly still on the mat.

 

Gandhi stepped back, waiting for Feather to strike. He noticed a small set of red runes flash on his opponents knuckles.

 

_I can play that game too…_

 

Feather stepped forward, six steps, dividen between each foot, moving in a way that appears to shift his weight more than it actually did, all of his force gradually transferring to his right leg.

 

Feather smirked a bit from behind his raised fists. Gold runes flickered a bit, the hot electricity of the small spell bouncing between his fingers. _Thanks, Shaman!_

 

Gandhi moved his arm to block what looked like an uppercut, his right arm arcing past his usual defences, leaving _just enough space-_

 

For him to land a solid hit.

 

He felt the man’s teeth clank and crack in his skull, his jaw probably bruising. The spell activated, essentially tasering the guy, the force of the punch tilting the guy backwards, the motion of quickly using all of his weight to push the guy out of the ring sealing the deal.

 

Worked like a damn _charm._

 

Gandhi was well out of the ring, and the jeweled ring was his.

 

He picked up his winnings as soon as possible, patting Ayer on the back before running out of the place, sprinting straight to the woods and up the mountain, back to Randall’s- well, _their, or was it his?_ House.

 

It was 4:30 in the morning and Randall was _beside_ himself with worry, although we would never admit it. It was much easier to just yell at people than to admit he cared.

 

Feather came bounding through the door, panting and grinning. Surprisingly all in one piece, Randall was convinced he was shot and skinned for a while there.

 

“ **Explain. Now.”**

 

“I was fighting, I- I- got something for you!” Feather panted, eyes sparkling.

 

“What _shitty trinket did you get beat up for this time?!”_ Randall spat, fury painted onto his face.

 

Feather’s expression sank for a bit, before rebounding. “No, It’s not a trinket! See!” He grinned, taking out a small velvet box from his pocket.

 

“ _Don’t care._ You’re on the couch for the rest of the week. I’ll break your wrist if you try to go back there before the month is out.” Randall was keeping his anger down. He hadn’t slept _all night,_ the lack of another body next to his somehow making it impossible to sleep. Even if that other body tended to _snore_  or end up in _very weird positions._

 

It dawned on Feather as Randall turned to go down the hall. _Of course, he wasn’t presenting it in the proper way! In those movies they always got on their knees… was it one or two? Lit’s go with two to be safe!_

 

“Why are you kneeling on the floor?” Randall asked, turning back around. He saw Feather get down in the corner of his eye, and was now considering the possibility that Feather was _hurt._

 

“This is how they always do it in movies!”

 

“Do _what?!”_

 

“That weird ring thingy!”

 

“ _WHAT WEIRD RING-_ **OH MY GOD.”**

 

Feather smiled up at him, one hand opening the box, revealing the ring inside.

 

“I Saw it and I _had_ to get it for you!”

 

“ _Do YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU’RE D O I NG?!”_

 

“I’m giving you a ring.”

 

“You’re _fucking_ **_proposing to me!”_ **

 

“Huh?”

 

“You’re _asking to_ **_marry me!”_ **

 

“Don’t know what that really means.”

 

“I- I-.... You’re telling me you want to spend the _rest of your_ **_life_ ** _with me.”_

 

“Ok.”

 

“Ok?!?! That’s _all you have to say!? OK!?”_

 

“I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with you since we first had sex.”

 

“ _Adhsjdgfkg_ **_W H A T?!”_ **

 

“Is that… not how humans go about it?”

 

“ **_NO!!”_ **

 

“Oh. Well. Guess I’m stuck with you forever now in the Human _and_ the Were-cat way.”

 

“I Never actually _accepted_  your proposal.”

 

“Well then, do you?”

 

“...Yes, You dumb Tiger. I’ll spend the rest of my life with your stupid ass.”

 

“ _Hey! I’m Not a tiger!”_

 

“Whatever you say…”

**Author's Note:**

> Comment, Kudo, Whatever it is Y'all do!
> 
> I got a Twitter where people send me crap that makes me do stuff like this so HMU -> [Here!](https://twitter.com/ConfuzzledSheep)


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